Men, stop reading now. If you continue to read, I will hunt you down and hurt you. So, it was time to do something about this torture device otherwise known as a bra. I have gained weight. The most obvious place I could tell was in my bra. I could not wait to get that damn thing off every time I wore it. I never liked them much to begin with, but this was just miserable. So, we go bra shopping today. Start off with, shopping on weekends is soooo not my thing. I truly understand Sensory Integration Disorder (SID) in kids now because with whatever is going on with me, I have it (I was actually reading about the vestibular thing and it seems it can cause it - interesting, huh?). Agitated and irritable doesn't even begin to describe it. Let's just say it's a really good idea I don't own a gun. We go to Penny's. For some strange and STUPID reason, this Penny's has their lingerie department on the lower level next to bedding and on the same level as men's clothing. Ladies clothing is on the upper level. And for some other strange and STUPID reason, women insist on bringing their men along lingerie shopping and then the men end up hanging out in the lingerie department while the women shop and try on various garments. I really don't like men in the lingerie department while I'm shopping for unmentionables. Call me a prude, if you want. I just don't like it. I'm not hanging around them while they're shopping for jock-straps. And this one guy in particular...let's just say he needed a baseball bat upside the head. He's following his girlfriend/wife/whatever around telling her in great detail what he thinks she should get. I couldn't hear her - I'm hoping she had enough sense to be embarrassed by him - but, *everyone* could hear him. Then - get this - he plants himself directly in front of the fitting room entrance trying to convince his girlfriend/wife/whatever to come out and show him her bras as she tries them on. Did I mention I was cranky and irritable? I was not at all quiet in what I thought about a man standing directly in front of the open entrance to a women's fitting room in the lingerie department. I mean, ladies are having to walk past this guy to go into the fitting room and this guy doesn't have the class - nor the sense - to leave. At some point, someone must have said something because I saw him later sitting in a chair by the cashier. hehehehehehehehe And then to top it all off I found all of 2 bras in my size. Apparently, when you are a certain size around the ribs, they expect your cup size to be bigger. And if I had had any boobs to begin with, i.e., when I was thin, that would probably be the case. But, I didn't. And I'm not that cup size with this rib size. And when I tried on those measly 2 bras, they were no better than my current torture device. So, I looked for pull-on type bras. All of them were sports bras that are worn alone, not under a shirt. I found ONE brand of the pull-on type bra that was not a sports bra in two colors. I snatched them up. They offer minimal support and don't do much else, but they don't torture me. They'll do. At least I can say I'm wearing a bra. So there. I believe I won't be doing this again for a long, long time. I'm also writing a letter to Penny's and asking who's brilliant idea was it to put the lingerie department next to bedding and men's clothing. Duh. I won't go into the events of the other idiotic happenings while at the mall. I really don't do well with crowds - I always shopped weekday evenings. And with my sensory issues - it's really not pretty. But, I did get a pair of Dansko's shoes and a sweater from Christopher and Banks. So, it wasn't all bad. And Wynter was really good and appreciative when I got her another pair of arm warmers that she really, really wanted, but wasn't being pushy about. Wynter. Appreciative. Wow. Progress. And as I'm typing this, Devon is picking his nose. Ugh. Guys are so gross.